Last Call
by shannygoat
Summary: One shot. An addiction threatens to ruin everything he has. It's time to make a choice. John Cena, OC.


_A/N: I have no idea why I wrote this. I was supposed to be writing something else, but I kept saying, "What if John Cena was an alcoholic?" So there you have it…my first attempt at a one shot._

Last Call

"Baby, please don't do this." I watch as she takes her clothes from the dresser and places them into her suitcase. It's not like we haven't been through this before, but this time I think she's serious. She's leaving. And this time I don't think I can stop her.

We were supposed to have forever together. Our vows said until death do us part. Maybe that's why it's ending, because I feel like I'm dying inside. How in the fuck am I supposed to go on knowing that she's not here for me to come home to? She's my rock, she's my everything. She's single handedly kept me grounded for the past few years.

Maybe that's the problem. She's been everything to me and I haven't been shit to her. I dropped the ball. I got caught up. I let the money, the partying and the fame go to my head. Somewhere along the lines, I forgot what was important. But, I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to forget to tell her that I loved her. I didn't mean to forget to let her know just how much I appreciated everything she's done for me. I didn't mean to forget how to be her husband.

"I don't want this." This is my last chance to try to reason with her. Every other time I've tried it's ended in a huge fight. This time instead of yelling and pointing the blame in her direction, I'm going to own up to my mistakes. I'm going to take responsibility for everything that I've done wrong. "We can get through this. It's just a rough patch. I'll do anything you want."

The tears dancing on her eyelids are enough to make my heart stop. Why is it every time I fucking talk to her, I end up making her cry? It use to be a time when I was the one that could take away her tears. Now it seems that I'm the only one that causes them anymore. "Tell me what I have to do."

She can't even look at me. I've lost her…I have really lost her this time. "How much have you had to drink today?" That's all she cares about. I'm so sick of having this fucking conversation. I'm trying to save our marriage and she's worried about a few beers. This is exactly why every conversation ends up in an argument.

I try to calm myself before I speak to her, because what I really want to tell her is it's none of her fucking business. I'll do what ever it takes to keep my life the way it is; to keep _her._ If I can just get her to understand how much I love her, I know we'll make it work. "Baby…"

"Stop it. You can't answer that question, can you? You've been drinking since you woke up this morning. You were drinking all day yesterday and the day before that and that night…" She licks her lip over the red bruise on it.

That night. Of course she would have to bring up _that night_. We spent hours in the emergency room and I still don't remember how we got there. But I remember seeing the large black and blue bruise that ran along her chest and stomach, I remember hearing her cry as the doctor examined her. If I could just remember what happened _that night_ I could make her see that it wasn't my fault. I would never do anything to hurt her.

"You don't understand the pressure I'm under. Everyone wants me to be this champion. They all want me to be great. I'm gone so much I barely know the name of the town we're in. My body hurts like you couldn't imagine. We're fighting all the time. I just need something to take the edge off." Why can't she understand that? Why can't she see how hard this is for me? "The only stable thing I have in my life is you. If you tell me to stop, I will. I swear."

It wasn't always like this. I met her in a bar, for God's sake. We use to have the best time partying together. There were so many times where the two of us would be the last ones there. We'd be so wasted and stumble our way back to my hotel before collapsing on each other in a heap of drunken hormones. We would make love until we passed out and then nurse each other's hangovers the next day. Things were so simple then, but somewhere along the lines things got screwed up.

Somewhere, throughout the years, she grew up and started looking toward the future, while life was still a big ass party for me. I knew that she wanted more and I was happy to give it her. She was my life, all I ever wanted was to make her happy and she didn't seem to mind wringing me out at the end of the night. That was then, before I got called up to WWE, and the pressure started mounting.

She walks by me to gather more clothes. She's not listening to me this time. If she loved me, she would help me through this, not walk out on me. Not when I need her so badly. "We're all under pressure. Do you understand what it's like for me to get phone calls in the middle of the night that you've past out again or that you're being rushed to the hospital to have your stomach pumped? I've flown out in the middle of the night to be by your side when you're lying in a damn hospital bed, unconscious from alcohol poisoning. I've bailed you out of jail how many times because you were so drunk that you were disturbing the peace or getting in fights? And now this? It's not just you anymore, you selfish bastard."

"Do you think I meant for that to happen? I love you, I would never hurt you!" I didn't mean to yell at her, but she won't listen. "How am I supposed to get through this without you here to help me? Why are you doing this to us?"

"Because you have to want this for yourself, that's why. Right now you don't." She zips her suitcase and pulls it off the bed. She stops to look at me and places her hand on my cheek. "I can't help you with this anymore. I'm not helping by covering for you, calling your bosses to see if they can change the card because you're too damn drunk to make it to an appearance. I'm not helping you when I believe you when you tell me you're not going to drink anymore. Don't you understand? I'm doing this _because _I love you. I love you too much to watch your drink yourself to death. I can't do it anymore. I won't…"

I place my hands on her stomach and feel the baby move under them. She can't take everything away from me. What does she think will happen when she walks out of that door? I know damn well her leaving isn't going to make me stop drinking. If anything, it'll be my reason for it. "Please?" I don't care if I'm begging or crying. I'm desperate. My life line is threatening to walk away and leave me here alone. I'm scared. I've never been so scared before in my life. "I'll do better, I promise."

She touches my hands and looks me in the eye. "We were in the car with you. Don't you see that? You were drunk and driving the car with us in it. You could have killed somebody, anything could have happened. That tree that we wrapped around could have been someone's child, or father…Baby, you need help. You need more than what I can give you."

"I'll stop. I'll go to the meetings, whatever you want. Please don't leave me." I don't even know if I mean what I'm saying. All I know is my heart hurts at the idea that she won't be here anymore. I want her and my baby. I want them more than anything. But even with knowing what my heart wants, there's that nagging in the back of my head. It's not going to be that easy. God, I wish it would be.

She lifts my hands off of her stomach and holds them out in front of me. "Look at yourself. You're shaking, you're sweating. You _need_ it, don't you? I don't care how many meetings you go to, if you don't want to stop, you never will. You can't get sober for me and the baby… you have to do it for you."

"I'm shaking and sweating because I'm scared that you're gonna walk away and never come back." Even if it's only a partial truth, it's still how I feel. It use to be just for fun, now it's so I don't shake out of my damn skin. I can't do anything anymore without thinking about when will be the next time I can have a drink. I'm sneaking swigs when she's not around and spiking my fucking coffee in the morning. It's just enough to get me through the day, until I can go out with my friends at night. It's more than it use to be, but it's not a habit. I have control over this. I can stop if she just helps me.

I watch as she carries her suitcase into the hallway. It's like she doesn't care that I'm pleading with her. "You can't walk out that door. What about us…what about our family?"

"You need to decide if you love your family more than that bottle." She walks to the door, but I can't let her leave.

"Kasey, please? I'll change, baby. All I need is one more chance. I promise." It's the last thing I manage to say to her before she opens the door. "I love you."

"I love you too, John. Now it's time that you start loving yourself."

She's gone. I can't believe she walked out on me. In my heart I know she's right and I'm going to do it. I'm going to get help and win her back. After I get myself together, I'm going to prove to her that my love for my family is stronger than any hold anything else has on me. As I pour my drink and stare down in the amber liquid in the glass, I know what I have to do. This bottle is my friend, but it's a friend I don't need. I _need_ my family, that's it. "I'm going to do this." I tell myself. And I will, just as soon as I finish this bottle.


End file.
